Discovered
by KissTheBoy7
Summary: Mini-sequel to More Than A Theory... Mark finds the footage Collins left on his camera. MARK/ROGER. Rated for some swearing. Oneshot. I wrote this on a request so I expect at least one review, please! Enjoy!


A/N: Hello all! One of my lovely reviewers requested this bit as a minisequel to More Than a Theory, which I only recently finished, and I thought I'd give it a go! Enjoy the slashiness! ;)

Disclaimer: Despite all of my efforts, I still don't own RENT. I don't even own the rights to calling Anthony Rapp my Facebook friend. *sniffle* It said he had TOO MANY REQUESTS! Wahh!

Discovered

Mark pulled himself out of Roger's nightly embrace, making the taller man groan in sleepy protest, and stumbled out of his bed with a huge yawn. He stretched his bare, pale arms over his head, and behind him he could feel the musician's gaze on his skinny form. Roger wasn't a morning person, never had been; when they were younger, it was because of the partying all night, the gigs with his band and all of their alcohol-induced escapades. Now, it was just because he liked to sleep.

The filmmaker smiled fondly at the dirty-blond guitarist as he grumbled and squinted his brilliant green eyes, trying in vain to go back to sleep. At times like this, with his uncut hair curling around his face in a sort of mane, Roger reminded Mark of a lazy lion. It was cute, if you weren't obligated to drag him out of bed. And today he wasn't. Feeling lighthearted, as per usual after Collins visited, his took a comb off of roger's dresser and ran it through his red-tinted blonde hair before pulling one of his trademark sweaters over his head.

It was a new day, and Mark decided that since Roger had the day off, he would take his own little vacation. The roll of film currently in his camera was almost finished, and he'd been itching to watch it. Footage of the last week promised to be interesting, mostly because of the holiday season and Collins visitation. Not to mention that he always enjoyed the excessive footage that seemed to accumulate just on Roger.

Biting his lip guiltily, Mark remembered the shots he'd gotten of Roger at all sorts of unsuspecting moments. When he was sleeping (he looked so cute, all curled up around that pillow!) and when he was playing his guitar as he sat on the kitchen table and just walking around the loft shirtless despite the cold… It was sort of creepy of him to do that, wasn't it? But Roger was just too hot. The camera loved him.

Mark was beginning to think his camera's love was one-sided. Hence the discreet filming.

If Roger decided to get up, which he surely would when he told him that he was watching the footage from the past week- the songwriter loved it as much as Mark did, though he didn't say it in so many words- he might manage to make some coffee for himself to sip during their private showing. "I'm setting up the projector, Rog," he called behind him as he strode into his room and picked up the contraption.

"Hey, Mark?" Roger yawned a few minutes later, having managed to get out of bed without a problem. He, unlike Mark, hadn't bothered with clothes. Who was going to see him anyways? It wasn't like Mark hadn't seen him naked before. "When are we gonna start telling people… about us?"

Though he was in another room, and the guitarist couldn't see him, Mark made a curious face. "Why? Roger, we can tell them when Mimi is over you… I don't want her to find out that you're with someone else, not to mention a guy- and, I mean, it's ME- when she's still in love with you."

"….. Okay," Roger sighed, wrapping his arms unexpectedly around Mark from behind after a long pause. "I was just worried that you might be kind of ashamed that you were with ME… But that's stupid. Who WOULDN'T want to be with me?" He smirked as he nuzzled his stubbly face into the filmmaker's neck, and Mark grimaced.

"You need to shave."

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

Finally, everything was set up and Mark had dragged his boyfriend out of bed to sit on the couch with him. Well, bribed was more like it; bribed with promises of vigorous sex that night and allowing Roger to act out whatever fantasy he liked, as though that wasn't already a given. The guitarist was exaggerating on his drowsiness with a heavy scowl and half-hooded eyes, clutching the mug of steaming coffee between his hands broodingly. He only brightened when Mark managed to cover the windows and block out the bright sunlight.

"Finally, I'm not being blinded," he sighed happily, sipping his coffee loudly. "Turn on the movie!" he commanded haughtily, grinning to show his roommate that he was teasing. Mark gave him a mock-growl of annoyance and complied, switching the projector on and watching as images began to move on the screen of snow falling gently out of a soft gray sky.

"It's not a movie, Roger. I haven't edited it yet. It's just… random shit,' Mark laughed. He leaned his downy head on Roger's shoulder contentedly as the guitarist's face appeared much larger on screen, sleeping with his mouth half open. Next to him, present-day Roger made a face.

"What are you, my stalker?" he asked incredulously. More pictures flashed past of the dirty-blonde-haired rocker, just walking bare-chested through the loft or smirking past the camera at him, making lewd gestures. Mark chose to ignore this comment- mostly because he didn't want to stop and think about how true it was- and instead continue watching the clips of the past week, still fresh in his memory, flash past.

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

It was probably an hour later that they got to Christmas Eve. Mark had to restrain the urge to laugh wildly at the Roger on screen, so eager to get to him that he'd tripped over a box of miscellaneous clothing and swore up and down. His boyfriend tossed him a slight scowl at that. "I blame you," he said, pouting. "I have a scrape on my hand. You see that? It's your fault." He pointed exaggeratedly to the heel of his hand, where the smallest nick could be seen.

"Yeah, okay Rog…" Wait, what the fuck? He felt his eyes narrow as he watched the screen. The rest of Christmas Eve seemed to have played out during their brief exchange, and now there was darkness… but there was sound. Rustling. The movie was supposed to be over- he hadn't picked his camera up since Christmas Eve on the street. Collins and Roger had bullied him into putting it away for the party at the loft afterwards. Where had this extra footage come from?

Suddenly, the camera turned onto a close up of Collin's face. His dark skin was difficult to see in the dim lighting, but it was definitely him nonetheless. When was this? It had to be that night, after everyone had gone to bed…. Wait.

Mark felt his mouth go dry. Collins was sleeping that night, on the couch… wasn't he? WASN'T HE? Just thinking about his hesitance to have sex with Roger that night, and how the rocker had convinced him… He remembered, vaguely, protesting that Collins might hear them. And Roger had said it was impossible, because Collins was sleeping and they would be quiet… He'd given in fairly quickly. But if Collins had been up, and playing with his camera, then he must have walked past Roger's door-

"You'll NEVER guess what's going on behind this door," Collins whispered excitedly on screen. Oh, fucking hell… Mark chanced a glance in Roger's direction and saw that the musician's mouth was partially open in shock, completely enthralled in Collin's words. "Actually, you probably could… I bet Mark has made at least ten sex tapes by now with Roger… Anyways."

He flushed at this and looked down, away from his blond boyfriend who was sure to have a contemplative expression on his face now. No, they had NEVER made a sex tape before! Where was Collins getting this? WHAT did he think he was doing with Mark's camera?

"Unbeknownst to my two friends in there, I've been doing my own little project the past week that I've been here. I got bored, so… I decided that it was about time I figured out why Mark was single still. I mean, come on. It's been almost two years since Maureen and from what I know he hasn't even had sex ONCE since!" A slight pause, in which Mark's skin was only getting redder. Collin had the hugest shit-eating grin on his face as he talked… "I st- INVESTIGATED for a few days and finally, two theories occurred to me. One was that Mark was a flamer. And two, he was in love with Roger."

It was the self-employed filmmaker's turn to look shocked at this. He knew that his former philosophy teacher was a sharp-minded person, but this was ridiculous! How could he have possibly predicted both of those things? Mark had never been obvious about his sexuality, or his growing crush on his best friend! Had he? Beside him, the other man was beginning to snort with laughter.

"With the help of Joanne, we performed an experiment on Christmas Eve and all of the evidence pointed to my being absolutely RIGHT. Finally, I've come to this simple conclusion; Roger and Mark are together. And they've loved each other for a loooong time. Of course, when I come to talk to Mark about it- assuming he was still drunk enough to admit anything- his bedroom is EMPTY."

Here it was, the reason Collins had filmed all of this in the first place. He wanted them to know that he knew, beyond any doubts, about their relationship… The camera was put down briefly, then picked back up and swung around to be pointed through the crack between the door and the doorframe. Mark became suddenly aware of what he'd been hearing the entire time in the background as Collins remained silent for a minute or two, just allowing the camera to roll.

"Oh, God, Roger fuck me, fuck me," he was whimpering. The scene was lit by candlelight, no surprise there- Roger loved to have sex in the dim, flickering light of a candle, something that Mark was pretty positive he'd picked up from his days with Mimi- and of course, it was always better when you could see the person you were fucking. "Roger…. Harder, please, fuck me!"

"Fuck, Mark," he heard the Roger on screen mutter in a moan as he continued to bed and plead for release. Wow, he knew he was loud, but he hadn't really known how submissive he really was until watching this footage… He made a mental note that he should try to use that voice to his advantage, because from what he could see- besides the rather graphic motions on the projector that were making him painfully hard in combination with Roger's arm tight around his waist- the guitarist had had a lot of trouble containing himself at those words. They were both obviously nearing their climaxes.

Before they finished, and thankfully before Mark came in his pants without even being touched at the sight of Roger pounding into him, the camera was refocused on Collins' face. He was laughing silently, happily. "December 25th, whatever the hell time it is in the morning Eastern Standard Time: Thomas B. Collins stumbles upon undeniable proof that he is a genius, because he was RIGHT. Enjoy the show, Marky," The camera was switched off and the screen went black.

The boho boys remained frozen for a moment, tense and both far too turned on by the footage, before they looked at each other. Mark scratched his head, laughing nervously.

"Well, I don't think we need to worry about telling Collins." He couldn't help but notice the predatory glint in Roger's green, green eyes. The songwriter's hands were creeping from his waist up underneath the hem of his shirt, and his face was slowly unfurling into a heart-stopping smile.

"Oh well, screw what Collin's knows… Want another go?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Mark swallowed hard, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he got up and started towards the hallway. Roger launched himself off the couch after him, a devilish laugh escaping his lips.

They didn't make it to the bedroom.


End file.
